The State of Being
by shortlived
Summary: One of the X-men survives the murder of her teammates and friends, but her misery has just started. One Shot. Complete.


The blood stayed with her, stained her clothes, clung to her skin. Gagged her with it's smell and left her reliving everything over and over. Slow. Step by step; everyone's actions, including herselfs dragged out and stretched out into each click of time.

_Everyone was dead._

She ran out of tears before they came for her, ran out of things to blame herself for before they dragged her out of her cell. She didn't know what they wanted, they never asked her any questions. Just hooked her up to some sort of machine. She would have screamed if her throat wasn't raw already. Would have yelled and fought if her spirit hadn't been broken in half from every droplet of blood that had fallen on her still breathing body.

Her friends. Her family.

_No more._

She was alone.

All alone.

Like the younger her had always believed herself to be. Her thoughts, her beliefs taking a tragic truth to them, as they were killed, one by one in front of her; or to the side. Some even a distance away, as they tried to run. But her eyes, her horrible orbs of vision taking in each and every thing. Branding themselves onto her very soul that tugged and weighed down inside of her, mixing itself in her self pity, and her feelings of tragic regret.

She felt like she was rotting flesh, a breathing corpse that had no purpose, or reason for living. She let them test her, let them take her blood and do experiments on her. The pain an overwhelming haze that intensified every time they took her out of the cage.

And then they suddenly stopped less then a week after they captured her. She had heard them whisper over her; a couple words filtering down to her hazy head. Ones that were filled with surprise on their part. _Pregnant _and _three weeks along _and then:

"Keep records of everything. This one has unusuall resiliency, her child just might live despite her mutation."

She nearly choked when she heard that, nearly gave herself away that she had heard them. But she bit on her tongue, hard and unrelentingly, blood spilling in her mouth; familiar thick warmth that for once actually helped.

That's when she woke up inside. She had a purpose once more.

For she was now of two.

Weeks passed and months and then almost a year. They fed her, watched over her. Her belly growing and her moods becoming increasingly erratic. Her mentality was slipping, the only thing keeping her from loosing it completely was the growth inside of her.

And then the day came. Going into labor. The thrill that her baby had indeed survived, being taken away from her along with her just born son.

She screamed then. She fought as well. Adrenaline flowing through her as she managed to get a hand loose, to grab hold of a scalpel that had been left beside her on a table. She made contact with someone close to her, a scream letting her know. She slashed through the other restraining piece that was holding her left hand, getting a good amount of her skin in the process; only to hear a command yelled; liquids flowing through small plastic tubes straight into her skin. Her eyes taking in all the blood that was staining her once more; some her own, some theirs, her eyelids sparing her from anymore of it as they became heavy and closed.

_"Rogue?"_

She heard her name being called as if a whisper. She had been thrown back into her cell. And she was sure she was just hearing things.

_"ROGUE!"_

She tried to sit her self up, but she was drained from giving birth, from the terror of what had happened afterwards. Rogue didn't even get a chance to see his face. Just a bundle wrapped in a blue blanket, tiny little fingers grabbing onto it. Her _son's_ fingers. For they had told her he was a boy before taking him away. She almost wished they hadn't said anything at all.

"Where's my baby? What have y'done with my son?!" Rogue screamed. Finally managing to sit up, pangs shooting through her from her premature movement. "Ill kill every one of y'bastards! I swear it! I SWEAR IT!" She yelled, her body trembling from her trying not to sob.

"_Rogue it's me Jean."_

Rogue blinked slowly. Trying to clear her brain that was doped up and blurred, but it was difficult, For a big part of her _wanted_ to stay drugged, wanted to be blissfully unaware. For as long as possible. _Anything_ to not have to face reality.

"It can't be Jean. She was killed!" She finally answered. Visions of Jean being shot through the stomach, Rogue herself leaning over her and trying to cover the wound. Trying to stop the bleeding. Trying to..

"_Rogue please listen to me. This isn't what it seems. It is all an illusion_."

She looked around the room, trying to find the face of the speaker. But when she became coherent enough she knew it was in her head. Rogue should have known. _Everything_ always started in her head.

"Leave me alone!" She yelled. Covering her ears, even though that wasn't how the words were getting inside her. Tears springing forth out of eyes once more, her mouth quivering and her heart rate increasing. "Y'got everything else! Y'can't have my mind too!"

_"Rogue hear my voice! Listen to the familiarity. I am Jean. Your friend. You have got to do what I say!"_

"I won't do anythin' for you!" I won't do a da.."

_"What do you remember the last time you saw me?"_

_Pain. Blood. Blackness._

_"Visualize what you saw."_

Rogue hadn't meant to do what the voice was telling her. But the longer she listened to it, the more it _did_ sound like Jean, and the more soothed and calm she felt.

Everything started to replay itself once more, but this time it was if she was stepping back from the emotions involved, just letting the mind film play back for another observer. Rogue watched as the killings began; heard the screams, the shouts and the useless orders being given that were telling them to take cover. All their diligence and training done away with in less than ten minutes.

_"Look past that Rogue. Look deeper."_

She didn't know what the voice meant. Didn't know what she was supposed to do. But suddenly certain elements started to melt away; trees and grass. The building that they were about to enter, where the mutant kids were located.

And then everything faded away completely until Rogue found herself asleep at the mansion, snuggling close to her husband. She could almost feel his warmth, hear his steady breathing. Smell his scent that was all over the room, and her.

That was when she saw the figure standing over them. Watching them. Observing.

_"That's it. You're doing good. Keep going. __**Look **__at him."_

It was then when the pain started, when everything in Rogue's head tried to reset itself back to the point before all the murders started. Walking along, hearing the jokes that were being said. The carefree nature of it all, for it was supposed to be an easy mission. Just pick up a couple mutant runaways. A couple teenagers that needed their help..

_"Stop! None of that happened! Go back."_

_"I can't!"_

_"Do it! You must! Now!!!"_

She was back in her room again. Looking at the shadow. The thing that was becoming more and more solid the longer she stared. What looked like ceremonial robes, a hood covering the face. And then bright yellow eyes. _Glowing_ eyes.

Rogue clenched her teeth. the pangs starting once more; unseeing tentacles digging deep inside her brain making her cry out. But she didn't give up, didn't stop until the man turned a little the side, the light catching his face, the glowing orbs burning brighter until they dug into and caught hers.

It was then that she found she couldn't breath. She felt the blood rushing down to her toes, an unshakable numbness drifting down through her. And still she couldn't look away.

_"Rogue!"_

She found herself back in the cell, only it wasn't her cell. Just a swirled mess of nothingness rotating around her. She closed her eyes tightly; nausea swaying through her, dizziness as well. And then it stopped.

"Welcome back."

The voice was no longer in her head. It was above her. And it _did_ sound like Jean. Soft and full of warmth. But Rogue knew it was some sort of hallucination making itself clearer as the drugs that had been pumped into her system, took better hold.

"You can open your eyes Rogue. It's all over with. I _promise_."

She did as she was told. Slowly and cautiously. Hope being throttled and pushed down with all the rest of her optimism.

But it _was_ Jean.

"You can't be real! _This_ can't be real!"

Rogue looked around her, she wasn't in a cell exactly, more of a room; restrained on a small bed. Jean was releasing her from her bonds, one by one with a wave of her hands. She saw a body slumped down in the corner. But looked away. Whoever it was, she knew they were still alive.

"Jean?"

Jean gave her a sympathetic look. Rogue sat up slowly, her body didn't argue. There was no pain, no real discomfort. She was still pretty loose and very limber. Her hand went to her stomach. But it was the same; nothing had changed. She wasn't, nor had she been pregnant.

"It _was_ all made up." She whispered. "But why?"

"It was the only way they could catch us _easily_." Jean snorted, an uncharacteristic gesture for the red head. "Unfortunately for them it didn't work on me longer than a couple of minutes. And you were highly resistant to it as well, if you weren't, I wouldn't have been able to reach you so easily."

"_Resistant_? _Easily_?" She choked. "_Jean_ I thought.. I thought.." Rogue stifled a sob. "How long was I out?"

"About twenty minutes."

"But it felt like.."

Jean looked at her, empathy rolling off of her. She put a hand on the back of Rogue's back, patting her softy.

"I _know_ Rogue. Felt _much_ longer didn't it?" She said knowingly. "I don't have to imagine what they made you think was happening. _Believe_ me. "

Rogue nodded slowly. Fighting back the imagery that was trying to make it's way back toward her. It had been so _real_.

"The others?"

"Still alive."

Rogue got up off the table. Standing firm, her hands shaking slighly but she forced them to still. She was ready to leave the nightmare behind her. Willing to do anything that would make her thoughts stop. And she _really_ needed to see her husband. Alive. Maybe then the world around her would seem more real. Maybe then she could breath a little easier.

"Then lets go get 'em."


End file.
